Thankfully it’s all a joke at the moment. I’m twenty, I don’t feel under pressure, not yet.
Because in just over a week, a girl who used to be one of my best friends when we were at sixth form, is getting married. She’s the second person I know, from my generation, to have done so, at least so far as I know (for the purposes of this entry, ‘my generation’ means ‘very early twenties’).
This means that it’s not just a one-off. People my age are getting married and settling down. And yes, you know I have dreams of what my wedding will be like. You know I like to dream about children and grandchildren and shopping for carpets and kitchen units and tablecloths and buying cats and a regular subscription to a newspaper, the National Geographic, and the National Trust (why these things make me a ‘grown-up’ I’m not sure). But those are dreams for the future. It’s safe to have those dreams because they’re about as relevant to me now as dreaming about being an Austen heroine, a princess, or a superhero.
So I don’t feel under pressure now just because people I could loosely term friends are getting married. I wouldn’t even feel under pressure if an actual current real-life friendshippy friend (as opposed to, so far, a friend-of-a-friend who I’ve met a few times, and a good old friend with whom sadly I lost touch) were getting married (on that score, I’ve got a couple of couples in mind who I can see walking down the aisle in the actual viable future, give me a couple of years and I’ll keep you posted). But it still, mentally, makes you go ‘oh?’ and I can imagine that minusule microvoltage jolt will only grow louder and more jolty over the next few years (oh, alright, once I hit my mid-twenties at the earliest, I’d imagine, and even that would be neurotic). I can’t imagine, yet, what it’ll be like when actually, friends getting married is kind of standard, when, as Hugh Grant says in Four Weddings, ‘finally it’s a Saturday and for once I don’t have a wedding to go to’. Yes, lots of fun parties, but with each of them, a little bit louder, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock… .
It’s a funny old world.
I just saw a man reversing into the bramble hedge across the road. Is it horribly horrible of me to find that really quite funny?